


And a Conversation in a Tree House

by frogy



Series: East High Holidays [1]
Category: High School Musical
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 21:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frogy/pseuds/frogy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chad can't believe that Troy still talks to all of these people. It's only been four months, but still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Conversation in a Tree House

Chad can't believe that Troy still talks to all of these people. It's only been four months, but still. Chad still lives in Albuquerque and goes to school with half the kids they went to high school with and *he* doesn't even still talk to this many people. But Troy's always been the town's golden boy and Chad's just the sidekick, so maybe it's different for him. It must be, Chad corrects, because Troy's backyard is as crowded as it was for the party after the championship game last year, teeming with people Chad either never knew, doesn't remember, or can't wait to never see again, all bubbling with holiday cheer.

Which is why Chad is hanging out in the tree house. From here, he can see Troy and Gabriella at the other side of the yard in the middle of a circle of admiring party-goers. They're making the most of the unseasonably warm weather (thanks global warming), Troy in flip flops and Gabi a short red and green dress. But up in the treehouse, Chad feels a winter chill in the air and pulls his U of A hoodie tighter, pushing his hands into the pockets. If he knew he was going to be hanging out up here, he would have worn a real winter hat instead of the Santa hat currently flattening his curls.

He leans forward on the railing and glances around to see if he can spot anyone else he knows. And walking by practically right under his feet is a familiar figure wearing a familiar hat. Chad shouts down "Hey Evans!"

Ryan swings his head around, looking for whoever called his name, and Chad laughs at how it makes the pom-pom on the top of his Santa hat flop around. Then Ryan looks up and spots him, shouting up his own "Hey."

"You're wearing my hat," Chad tells him.

Chad can't make out Ryan's facial expression from this far away in the dark, but the tilt of his head is challenging when he says "Your hat? I think it's safe to say any and all hats are by default *my* hat."

Chad snorts at that. Ryan has a point. But before Chad can say anything, Ryan starts walking again, and disappears into the space right below the treehouse where Chad can't see. Oh, well. Chad looks around again and sees that Kelsey's taken up her usual perch at the DJ booth, which explains the decent music.

But before his thoughts can go any further off on that tangent, he hears a rustling behind him. He turns to find the the top of a Santa hat and two hand poking up out of the door in floor, transforming into Ryan as he climbs up and into the treehouse with Chad. Once he's standing inside, Ryan makes a disgusted noise and wipes his hands on his thighs and Chad remembers that things like trees and nature aren't really Ryan's things.

Ryan looks good. He's got on skinny black jeans and distressed black leather boots on his feet. Ryan walks over and is standing next to where Chad's sitting, and Chad can't help it when his eyes are drawn to Ryan's package as Ryan sits down next to him. From this close, Chad can see that their hats don't actually match exactly. Ryan's is a dark pink and it matches the pink plaid flannel shirt he's wearing. Ryan puts his hands behind him, leaning back, unconsciously posing, and Chad thinks Ryan looks sharper than he remembers him being, more in focus. Ryan's still Ryan, but the Ryan outfits Chad remembers always had a point, this one just is.

Chad's evidently been quiet too long, looking, because Ryan gives him a look and asks "so, what are you doing up here anyway?"

"Just taking a break from all that," Chad says, gesturing down at the party, not sure if he means the crowd, high school, or who he used to be.

But Ryan misses that last unspoken in his interpretation. "Crazy, isn't it. We used to see all of these people every day, and now it's been months."

"Yea, I guess," Chad shrugs, looking around again at everyone who's there. There's only a few people he really missed, and one of them can't even make time for him. But, Ryan's up here, and now that Chad's talking to him, he's surprised to find that Ryan's one of those people he missed. Speaking of, "I don't see Sharpay. Where's she?"

"Her friend Emma invited all of them for a white Christmas at her parent's ski house, so she's skiing with the girls." Chad's not going to say anything to that, but something must show on his face, because Ryan furrows his brow and asks "what?"

"She has friends?" As far as Chad knows, Sharpay has people she hates and minions, but not friends.

Ryan rolls his eyes. "Yes, she has friends. She just hated you," he adds cheerfully, obviously joking.

"I'm crushed," Chad deadpans and they fall silent again. It's weird talking to people you haven't seen in a while. Even when they don't do anything to warrant it, Chad can't help but think they're expecting him to stuff himself back in a mold that doesn't fit anymore. "So, how's New York?" Chad asks awkwardly.

"It's great, wonderful, amazing," Ryan says, eyes lit up and smile wide on his face. "I love it."

"And the guys there?"

"Good." Ryan shrugs non-committedly, giving Chad a poignant look. "How are the girls at U of A?"

And okay, Chad gets it, that was a weird question. And, um, "I- uh-" Chad leans back on his hands, mirroring Ryan, so that he can better look at him. Should he say anything? And then he thinks, why the hell not? Ryan's more likely than anyone to get it. And if not, he never has to see him again. "I don't- I don't like girls. I'm gay."

"Holy shit." Ryan sits up straight and looks at him. "Really? Wait, don't answer that. That was dumb," he says all in a rush. Then, at a regular pace, "who else knows?"

"At this party, no one."

"Wow," Ryan says, relaxing back again.

"Yea," he says. "I was gonna tell Troy, but I can't seem to get a minute of his time."

"That sucks."

It does. Chad thinks Troy would have wanted to see his best friend after all this time, but only Chad's allowed to think that. When Ryan says it, Chad has to stand up for of his friend. "It makes sense that he's busy and having parties. He and Gabi are only here through the 27th. Then they're going to spend New Year's with her mom before Troy needs to be back at school for basketball. He wants to see as many people as possible before he leaves." He shrugs defensively. If it weren't for this Thing, he wouldn't care. It's not like they talk about their feelings. They're guys. And a game of pick-up is actually better when Zeke, Jason and the rest of the guys are there. "Sharpay abandoned you," he points out.

"That's different. She's my twin. It's not like time and distance will change that. Besides, she'll be back in three days," Ryan brushes off Chad's comparison, and gets back on point. "So, how are the guys at U of A? Or, wait, do people at school know?"

"Yea, some, my team, my frat brothers, a few other friends, but I'm not really dating."

"Oh."

"I went out with this guy a couple of times, but he just wanted too much. Like, it's one thing if someone I tell knows, but every time he wanted to be all couple-y I could feel all these people looking at us, knowing, and I just couldn't do it." Chad doesn't mean to say all of that. But once he starts speaking, it just all comes tumbling out.

"Says the guy who asked Taylor to prom in front of the whole cafeteria," Ryan says.

"That's different. That was normal."

"Hey," Ryan interrupts. "Being gay is normal too."

"No- Yeah- I know," Chad says sighing in defeat. "It's just, there's no end to having to the people that don't know. I thought it would get easier, but it doesn't. It's hard and it sucks."

"I could give you a makeover," Ryan offers, tone is flippant, but Chad can hear the undercurrent of truth when Ryan continues. "Gay you up. It saves you from needing to say it." That is one strategy for dealing with the whole never-ending coming out, but he likes his t-shirts. If he changed the way he looks, he wouldn't be being himself and the whole point of this whole thing is to be more honest about himself, not less.

Instead quirks an eyebrow and asks "what, I'm not pretty enough for you like this?" A beat later, Chad realizes what that sounds like, like he's hitting on Ryan, which yes, please, he's hot, but also probably a bad idea. "So, no, no guys at school," Chad tacks on quickly, jumping back a few conversation steps before Ryan can comment on his accidental come-on.

Ryan's smirking, like he wants to say something about first part of Chad's response, but he lets it drop. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have the opposite problem. There's a ton of guys in New York looking to have sex, but I swear there's not a single guy in the whole city who eats dinner, or not one who'll go out with you for dinner."

"I like dinner," Chad says without even thinking about it. "I'm a meat and potatoes kind of guy." Then he thinks about it, because that is definitely flirting, but there's nothing new to it. It's easy and familiar to tease Ryan, to pick up his bait. And god, they've been flirting for years and Chad never noticed.

"Of course you are," Ryan murmurs, before getting back to his point. Which is "I don't know why a guy will think it's okay to come on your face and then act like holding hands will give him cooties."

Chad half-laughs, half cringes at that. Ew. "Isn't that like- ew?"

"Yes. And rude," Ryan says, voice tinged with self-righteousness. And Chad full out laughs at that. Of course that's what what would bother Ryan, not the serious gross factor, but the fact that it's impolite. Ryan isn't full of himself the way his sister is, but he knows when he's better than something, and clearly that's below him. At least that's what Chad thinks, until Ryan gives him a considering look and adds, "at least without asking."

Chad chokes at that, laughter cut off abruptly to be replaced by coughing, as Chad tries to get his breath back. He leans forward and takes a few steadying breaths before looking back at Ryan, who still has a little half-smirk on his lips. "Really?"

Ryan shrugs. "Yea, sure. I mean, if I was dating someone and he really wanted to, why not?" Somewhere this conversation ran away from Chad. It's surreal. He's discussing coming on Ryan's face while in Troy's treehouse.

"Oh." Chad's initial 'ew' was genuine. It sounds sticky and gross. But now that Ryan's said that, Chad can't help picturing it. And, instead of being gross, it's hot. Chad's failed attempts at dating came with some fumbling hand jobs, that were awesome in the sense that there were orgasms with another hard, naked body involved.

But it was nothing compared to the porn-Ryan in Chad's head; Ryan on his knees, long, lithe dancer's body arched back, Chad painting Ryan's pretty, pink lips shiny with his dick, come dripping on Ryan's cheeks, his mouth, his chin, perfect, pristine Ryan letting Chad mess him up like that. Chad wants to know the ways Ryan will mess him up in return.

Chad can't even remember it being cold out, because his whole body feels flushed with heat at the thought. He's hard and he shifts to spread his legs a bit, and accidentally kicks Ryan's foot where it's hanging off the treehouse ledge next to Chad's.

"Hey," Ryan kick's back in return and Chad has to retaliate with a nudge. Ryan scoots closer so he can can get more force behind his next kick.

Chad moves closer in turn and his left hand bumps into Ryan's when he adjusts his lean to compensate. They're not so much kicking now as they are playing competitive footsie, heavy breathing audible in the still night air interspersed with their (manly) giggling. Their knees are touching, denim-covered calves sliding against each other as they fight.

Chad gets the upper hand, wrapping his foot around around Ryan's ankle, barely getting him still before calling "victory."

"Not a chance." Ryan squirms out of his hold and goes on the offensive.

This is it, Chad thinks. This is what all of their conversations are leading to, the challenge, push-pull of competition, that tension that Chad now knows is want. Chad wants Ryan. And there's no doubt in his mind that Ryan feels it too, wants this as badly as he does.

Then, Ryan's phone buzzes.

Chad sighs, moving his hand away, leaning forward against the railing of the treehouse, turning to watch as Ryan pulls out iPhone out of the pocket of those ridiculously tight jeans and checks the message. Whatever it is, it makes Ryan smile a soft, pleased smile.

"Sharpay," Ryan says, as thought that explains everything, tilting the phone so Chad can see. Chad leans in and reads what's on the screen.

December 24th 9pm est.

Chad doesn't get it. "It's not 9," he says.

"It's from Rent," and then at Chad's befuddled expression adds, "you know, the musical. It's kind of our thing."

"Whatever you say." Chad doesn't know. He's not the philistine that he's sure Ryan thinks he is, but even if he can admit in the privacy of his own head that he's liked all the musicals he's seen, he doesn't know this one.

But, Ryan's not taking that as an answer. "December 24th, 9pm, Eastern Standard Time, from here on in I shoot without a script, instead of my old shit. First shot Roger, tuning the fender guitar he hasn't played in a year," Ryan sing-songs. It's not the full-out singing that Chad knows Ryan can do, but his voice is still wonderful to listen to, and Chad focuses on that, tuning out the words of a story he doesn't know while Ryan continues on through a flourishing "zoom in on the answering machine."

Ryan is giving Chad a hopeful look, that Chad knows he can't live up to. "Man, I don't know the show. That means nothing to me."

Ryan gives Chad a pitying look, but seemingly drops it, instead saying, "my story in return for yours. Freshman year of high school my parents took me and Sharpay to New York for Christmas. It's when I first fell in love with the city, decided I was going to move there someday." Chad nods, not sure where this is going, but wanting to find out. "I came out to Shar on that trip."

Oh. That's what Ryan meant by his story in return for Chad's. But, "she didn't know?" Ryan's never been subtle, and as little as Chad thinks of Sharpay, she's not that dumb.

"Do you remember me freshman year?"

Chad's first instinct is to say 'yea, of course,' but then he thinks about it. And he doesn't. Now it seems like Ryan's always been this fabulous, unapologetic force in his life, but really, Chad has no concrete memories of Ryan before junior year. Chad thinks he remembers that Ryan was in the musical sophomore year, but he could just be making that up to fit what he knows about Ryan. "No, I guess not," he says hesitantly, disbelievingly, and almost angry at his lack of memories. How did he really not know Ryan?

"I was quiet back then, about this and about everything else. I was scared. It's always hard at first," Ryan says, giving Chad a rue grin. "That's why I loved acting so much. I could be someone else. But anyway, Sharpay had been begging our parents forever to let us see Rent when we were in New York. They had seen it back when it opened and weren't interested. And finally, they relented, getting tickets for us to see it Christmas eve by ourselves while they went to see whatever was hot that season." Ryan waves his hand around indicating that's unimportant.

"We saw the show, and it's about these bohemians living in New York and AIDS, and in the show it follows a gay couple, a lesbian couple, and a straight couple, and it's such an amazing story, and we were giddy from the music and the lights of Times Square and feeling like adults getting to see the show by ourselves."

Ryan rolls his eyes at the idea of his 14-year-old self being an adult. "And after the show, the car our parents arranged for us was waiting to drive us the six blocks to the hotel. We didn't want to go to sleep when we got back, so we ordered room service and there sitting on the bed, eating room-service french fries, I told Sharpay I like guys."

"What did she say?"

"She gave me a hug and asked me if I wanted a makeover."

Chad snorts. Of course she did.

"Anyway," Ryan says, "I still can't believe you've never seen Rent. They made a movie of it like two years ago, it's not as good as the show, but you should come over while I'm home and we can watch it."

"Okay," Chad says. "I only have the actual holidays totally off from practice, but outside of basketball I don't have anything going on, so I should have time."

"Cool."

Then an idea hits him. "Dude, if you're here for a home game you totally have to come see us play."

"Yea, definitely," Ryan agrees easily.

Chad's surprised at Ryan's immediate concession and apparent enthusiasm. Ryan never struck Chad as someone who's into sports and that first impressions always springs to mind before he consciously processes it. Then he remembers how good Ryan is at baseball. "What? Are you a secret basketball whiz too?"

"Oh god, no," Ryan says. "But you guys are doing well this year. 9 and 2, right? But you still have UCLA coming up, and they're undefeated."

"Oh- uh- yeah," Chad says, surprised that Ryan knows their stats. "You follow college hoops?"

"Basketball players are hot," Ryan shrugs with exaggerated nonchalance. Then, more serious, "plus, hometown team, Sharpay goes there, I have a friend on the team. Yea, I follow basketball."

Friend on the team? Oh. Ryan's talking about him. Once Chad's puzzled that out he verbally ignores Ryan's real answer, instead smiling at Ryan, saying "Oh? We are?"

"Well, maybe not you," Ryan teases, "but I certainly wasn't the mascot for the cool costume."

Chad laughs at that. "I always forget about that. I can't believe you wore that stupid thing."

"Eh," Ryan makes a non-committed noise. "So really, how do you think the rest of the season's going to go? Can you beat UCLA?"

UCLA is undefeated. They're going to be their biggest challenge, but it's possible. "We could, we have a better rebounding margin, and they have a much stronger offense then defense. If we can hold them back, we have a chance."

"But UCLA has Randle," Ryan says. He has the best free-throw average in the PAC-10.

"But against Kansas they could not seem to win a tip-off. If that's gonna be an issue for them, Randle isn't going to make up the difference," Chad points out.

"True," Ryan concedes.

"I gotta be honest man, I can't believe you really follow this stuff."

"I don't know why," Ryan says. "I'm a dancer. I'm an athlete too."

Chad scrunches up his nose in confusion. "I thought that made you an artiste." He pronounces the last word like Ms. Darbus did, ridiculous accent and emphasis on the last syllable.

"Well, that too. But," Ryan draws out a pause, "haven't you seen Titanic."

"No, why would I?" Chad has no idea where that came from. "And, what does that have to do with anything."

"I don't know, you used to date girls," Ryan says, addressing Chad's first question. "And, I can't believe I need to do this," Ryan says, grabbing on to the guardrail of the treehouse and pulling himself up to stand next to him. Chad pulls his feet up from where they're dangling so he can turn and sit cross-legged, facing Ryan.

Ryan bends down and unties his boots, taking them off. He stands up straight again, and bends a few times at the knee to warm up, shakes out his shoulders and arms, stands on one foot and rotates his foot at one ankle, then switching and doing the other.

Then, ready, he asks Chad "can you do this?" He holds his hands out at his sides and rolls up so he's standing on his toes. And then he keeps going, up and up, until he's balanced on the very top of his toes. Then he holds it. Chad looks up from Ryan's feet to his face, wowed. And that seems to be the cue for Ryan to drop back down to standing normally. He wasn't up for long, probably just a few seconds, but there's no way Chad could even get there in the first place.

"Dude," Chad says, impressed.

"What about this?" Ryan asks, shaking out again, before lifting his left leg up behind him, until he can grab it again above his head and hold.

"Wow." That's a good one for the porn-Ryan that lives in Chad's head. And if they're not going to have sex right now, Chad should probably put an end to this. "Okay, point proven."

"Great," Ryan says, letting going of his leg, and dropping gracefully down to sit across from Chad. Ryan's focused on his boot when he speaks again, taking more time to tie them back up properly than he did kicking them off. "For pretty much any sport, if you show me the plays, I can run the moves. That's what I do. And I can shoot okay. I'm probably about average for a random person. But I'm not good at sports where the defense is on you."

Chad guesses that makes sense even though he personally thinks that the best thing about sports is that one-on-one competition. Going through the moves without the pressure to get that basket that gives them the win is totally missing the point. Which is maybe why Chad doesn't dance, even though Ryan dragged him kicking and screaming into discovering that he can.

"So really," Ryan continues, looking up at Chad once his boots are back on, "give me the inside scoop. I want to win my NCAA pool this year."

"Isn't that like insider trading?" Chad asks.

"Whatever," Ryan brushes off his concern. "I'm pretty sure I'm the only person in the dance program who's even seen a game of basketball, let alone follows it. I deserve to win."

"Of course you do," Chad says. Because, Ryan is after all an Evans. And this is one case (in a scarily growing number of situations) where Chad thinks he'd be willing to help Ryan get what he thinks is rightfully his anyway. "Well, we'll definitely have a winning season and we're on track for the PAC-10 finals. We'll beat Arizona and Oregon, no problem. And no offense to Troy, but we should crush Berkeley. The other games will be closer, but if we keep going like we've been going we should have a good seed in the NCAA tournament."

"Aren't you supposed to tell me that you're going to win it all?" Ryan says.

"Oh, that should go without saying, I'm on the team after all," Chad says, rolling his eyes.

"What about Washington? They're shaping up to be a real contender this year."

"Yea," Chad says, launching into a breakdown of U of A's chances against Washington, which leads to a larger discussion on basketball and college sports and Juilliard's complete lack of them, complete with tangents about dancing, 5 am practices (in Chad's case) or rehearsals (in Ryan's case), and one anecdote about Chad's teammate who is so afraid of flying he hyperventilated to the point of passing out when they flew to Portland.

The next interruption comes from Chad's beeping phone. Chad checks it, and it's Troy wanting to know where he disappeared to. Chad doesn't think it's been that long, but when he closes the text and gets a look at the time he realizes he's stunned to find he's been up in this treehouse for practically the whole party.

"Troy's looking for me," he tells Ryan apologetically, while sending a quick text to Troy that he'll come find him. "I think I need to go find him, taking opportunities presented and all that," Chad says, waving his hand around to encompass everything from wishing his best friend a 'Merry Christmas' to coming out, and stands up.

"No, I totally understand," Ryan says, getting up too.

Chad ducks into the treehouse from the balcony they were sitting on, and Ryan follows him. Chad heads to the ladder, ready to rejoin the party. But before he can begin his climb down, Ryan stops him a hand on his shoulder. Chad goes along easily when Ryan tugs him around and it's startling how close to him Ryan is standing. Ryan's blue eyes are crystal clear intensity from this close, and they're staring right into Chad's own.

"Just so we're clear on this," Ryan starts. He doesn't finish. Instead, he leans in and kisses Chad. It's quick, a dry touch of Ryan's lips against Chad's, before Ryan pulls back just enough to look Chad in the eye again.

Yes, they're clear on this. Chad wants this. His mind is racing and his heart is beating faster, belatedly getting his body tuned into Ryan and the fact that Ryan kissed him. And it's not fair that he doesn't have more of it. Ryan beautiful and hot and right there, and still close enough that Chad can feel the hot rush of air against his lips when Ryan exhales but the only place they're touching is Chad's shoulder where Ryan's hand is still resting, warm through the two layers of cloth. All it would take for them to be kissing again, a real, actual kiss is a slight tilt forward, a scant few inches and their lips would meet again. "Yeah," he murmurs.

Then, Chad takes matters into his own hands, surging forward to kiss him again. Chad has the upper hand and uses it to suck Ryan's bottom lip into his mouth.

But with that type of confirmation, Ryan doesn't hold back for long, using his grip on Chad's shoulder to spin him around and back him up until his back hits the wall of the treehouse with a thunk. Ryan goes on the attack. Kissing Ryan is like the best type of fight, a battle for control and adrenaline sparking along Chad's nerve endings. Ryan's tongue explores the crevices of Chad's mouth, and Chad sucks on it, not letting Ryan take without taking in return.

Chad wraps his arm around Ryan, fisting his hand in Ryan's shirt at the small of his back. Ryan still has one hand on Chad's shoulder, pressing him into the wall, the other bracing himself on the rough wood wall next to Chad's head.

When Ryan pulls back it's to take a gasping breath. "Chad," Ryan exhales. Chad wants to hear his name said like that every day for the rest of eternity, breathless and amazed. "God," he gasps, tipping his head back.

Chad can't not take advantage of that opening, leaning up to suck at the hollow of Ryan's exposed neck. It startles Ryan and he lets himself collapsing forward on Chad a low groan escaping. The hand Chad has wrapped around Ryan jerks up to steady Ryan, and it pulls up his shirt, exposing a strip of skin. Chad's pinky reaches down to feel the smooth skin a tease that's just not enough, so he slips his whole hand under Ryan's shirt to press against his lower back. A shift in his stance, and now it's perfect, Ryan settled between his legs so he can grind up, pressing his erection against Ryan. Chad pictures Ryan tomorrow morning, alone in his bathroom looking at the hickeys in his mirror, knowing they're from Chad. That image is almost as good as Ryan shuddering in his arms, panting half-vocalized "yes, yes, yes." Chad can feel that Ryan's hard through their jeans and having that power over him is heady. The thought that he's marking Ryan, each bruise a trophy better than anything he's ever won on the court makes him to suck harder, wanting to drag the mark up to the surface of Ryan's skin.

Chad gives one last drag of his teeth over Ryan's neck before finding his mouth again. This kiss is wetter, more desperate, more dueling, just plain more. Chad slips his left hand down from where it was wrapped up to rest between Ryan's shoulder-blades down to his side, finding the hem of Ryan's shirt and sliding his second hand along Ryan's stomach.

And Chad can never say anything disparaging about dancing ever again. Because Ryan might be skinny, but as Chad can feel the definition in his abs, the hard muscle quivering beneath his hand. Dance might be about performing, but there must be some serious athletics behind it for Ryan to feel like this, like pure, restrained energy in his grip.

Chad wants to see it, have Ryan laid bare for him, wants him naked, wants that skin on his own, wants, wants, wants, movements become rougher, raw, desperate.

Ryan brings his hands up to cup Chad's face, fingers tangling in his hair, and he uses his grip to hold Chad back as he pulls out of the kiss and takes a step back. Chad whines at the loss.

"Hey, Chad. Hey," Ryan says softly into the too big space between them, entirely too coherent for the moment.'  
Chad concentrates, focuses his eyes on Ryan, and tries to say "Ryan, come on." The 'Ryan,' comes out okay, a moan, but understandable, but the rest gets lost in a groan as Ryan runs his hands down Chad's neck, past collarbone, chest and stomach in two parallel lines until his fingertips come to rest in the pockets of Chad's jeans, so, so close to his dick.

"Let me," Ryan says, hands moving to the buttons of Chad's jeans.

"Yes, fuck," Chad gasps. "Anything."

Ryan undoes Chad's jeans just enough to free his cock, wrapping a hand around it and Chad is already so, so close. He's not going to survive Ryan jerking him off, stroking up and down tight and fast and perfect, twisting just right on the upstroke, thumb swiping over the head on every pass. They're both watching the movements driving Chad to incoherency. It's fucking gorgeous, the contrast of skin tones, Ryan's pale hand on Chad's dark, throbbing cock.

Their foreheads pressed against one another's against a buffer of their hair, Chad's curls plastered to his forehead with sweat from where they're pushed down by his hat. God, he's still wearing that fucking hat. A bubble of laughter interrupts his shaking, heavy breathing.

Chad looks up before he loses it. And Ryan is still wearing his fucking hat. Fuck, Ryan. "Ryan, Ryan, Ryan." Ryan who's perfect and beautiful and has that mouth and Chad can't get enough. He tilts his head in, sloppy and imprecise with need to kiss Ryan again, to taste him, to take his fill, his win, his prize, to let Ryan's mouth swallow the noises he makes as he reaches the precipice, coming undone at the sheer pinnacle of pleasure, and just coming, everything lost in the exploding white noise behind his eyes and the rush of bliss centered at Ryan's hand.

The world goes hazy after orgasm, slumped back against the wall, just breathing in and out, in and out. Chad opens his eyes to look at Ryan just in time. Because Ryan's looking considerately at his hand covered with Chad's come (because of course Ryan caught it, not wanting to make a mess when they both need to go back down to the party and there's no way to really clean up up here, and he's considerate like that). And his mind is stuck on 'I just came' and 'Ryan just jerked me off.' So, he really can't handle it when Ryan brings his hand to his mouth and licks. Because Ryan is licking up Chad's come.

"I- You-" Chad starts. He should say something, do something to restore equilibrium, to put his thoughts back together from where he fell apart under Ryan's touch.

But Ryan doesn't seem to mind an incoherent Chad. "Yes?" he smirks, taking one last pass of his palm with his tongue before wiping off the last residual wetness of his spit-cleaned palm on his jeans.

Ryan's jeans. Chad should... get him out of them. "Do you- Should I-?" he gestures. He's supposed to reciprocate, right?

"That was for luck," Ryan says cheerfully. Chad's lost. Luck?

His confusion must show on his face, because Ryan elaborates. "For talking to Troy."

Troy. Right. Chad was going to find Troy. Okay, he can do this. "So you don't want anything?"

"Go talk to Troy. Give me a call, you can take me out to dinner and then we'll talk."

"Or not talk," Chad says. Because as much as he likes talking, he really just wants to get him naked.

"Or not talk," Ryan agrees. "I'll head down first, see you later."

"Later," Chad echos back, but Ryan's already turned his back on Chad, climbing onto the ladder and beginning to descend.

Chad stays where he is, watching Ryan disappear down from their little treehouse cocoon. A few rungs down, before he's gone from view entirely, when only Ryan's head is visible, he stops and cranes his neck around to look at Chad one last time. "Oh, and merry Christmas," and then he's gone.

Chad rights himself, standing up from his slump against the wall. Now that Ryan's gone, it's embarrassing to be standing there with his pants undone. Also, it's cold. Chad gets himself together, taking a few deep breaths to get himself together, peering around the party to see if he can find Troy from this viewpoint first.

Chad finds him sitting with the old crew on the trampoline. Chad's the only one missing. He's glad Troy noticed, because it's nice to know he's missed, but also because Chad should be down there. Those are his best friends, and he feels bad for thinking they were just the same, boring people he left behind.

Jason has a ridiculous mohawk and Chad wants to find out if it was his decision or the result of an ill-fated bet (eventually Jason has to realize that he's terminally wrong and stop taking bets) and Chad's pretty sure this is the first time he's ever seen Taylor wear jeans. He bets they all have new college stories and suddenly Chad can't wait to hear them all.

He knows he's still smiling ridiculously, giddy from Ryan, but he's not going to complain about happiness spilling out into the rest of his life. It doesn't feel strange to want to hang out with his friends or to be okay with himself or be looking forward to a month of vacation (college would be awesome for that alone) and his plans with Ryan.

He feels like he's finally himself again. Chad turns away from the scene below him to join it instead of just watch. Merry Christmas, indeed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a [soundtrack for this fic](http://community.livejournal.com/andampersands/6164.html)!


End file.
